The Honor And The Luxury
by Spirit Bagle of Death
Summary: My take on the gay marriage prompt for our boys. Takes place in some lovely universe where X3 doesn't exist, but same era. Warnings: Old!Cherik. Feelings.


Contrary to the rumor rippling throughout the school, it had been Erik's idea.

Charles straightened his tie and smiled to himself in the full length mirror at the memory, aware that it made him look ten years younger than his 75 and happy for it...he'd be smiling a lot today.

Erik hadn't smiled. In fact, he'd been so solemn, raising himself via magnetic field in full regalia through Charles's balcony window at some ungodly small hour of the morning, that for one awful moment, the telepath had thought the Sentinels were raiding, (or that he was to be the subject of another kidnapping).

When pressed, he'd resisted, and gotten almost as angry as he had in his younger years, when they'd both been foolish and full of such fire...until Charles had looked hurt, and then he'd broken like brittle aluminum, blue eyes turning at once from fierce to houndish in the lined and sunken face.

_"__Don't __give __me __that __look, __Charles.__"_

_"__I __don't __know __what __you're __referring __to.__"_

_"__You __look __like __I've __just __told __you __they've __cut __the __National __Endowment __for __the __Humanities.__"_

_"__You __haven't __told __me __a __damned __thing, __and __that's __the __trouble.__"_

_"__I __will. __I'm __going __to. __Why __do __you __think __I'm __here.__You __can't __let __anything __rest, __can __you? __Can't __let __anything __just __happen, __you __always __have __to __know.__You're __like __a __child.__" _

Amusement had ghosted across his features then, and set Charles at ease. He hadn't expected what happened next...even though there was no helmet. Even though he'd known this man for fifty years...it was still a surprise when Erik Lehnsherr, mutant name Magneto, ran nervous fingers through his hair...and then got down on one knee in front of the wheelchair.

_"__Erik...you...you __had __better __tell __me __now.__Because __at __this __juncture __I'__m...forming __some __theories, __and __if __I'm __wrong...__"_

_"__When __is __Charles __Xavier __ever __wrong?__"_

_"__...Don't __tease __me,__Erik.__"_

_"__You __love __it.__You __love __me.__"_

It was a statement, but a question just as surely. Charles remembered the tremor, slight and maybe even inaudible to all but he...remembered the Adam's apple bob up, then down as his oldest friend took his hand and reached into his back pocket with his free arm-

_"__I __do. __I __do __love __you.__" _

He'd been utterly in earnest, for it broke his heart that even after so long, and all they'd been through, Erik still couldn't see what he saw in himself...if he'd had that ability, he wouldn't have to wonder. Not even for a moment.

The ring the older man slipped onto his finger was burnished sterling, slim and masculine and tasteful and practically singing with Erik's energy. In its center gleamed a single fleck of polished onyx.

Perfection.

_"__And __I __you. __For __all __the __good __it's __ever __done __either __of __us. And I know you__, __you __expect __a __proper __gentleman, __so...Charles __Xavier, __will __you __marry__m-mmfrh.__"_

Charles blushed. He really couldbe impulsive sometimes..._rough_even, and that kiss had nearly knocked the other man off balance.

_"__Yes. __Yes __Erik, __Yes __a __thousand __times __yes __you __fool...my __friend...my __old __friend...__"_

"Are you ready, Professor?"

Ororo knocked politely on the doorjamb before entering and complimenting him on his tuxedo, (only a bit out of the way from his normal attire, but, well. What could he say.) She looked spectacular herself in the cornflower blue gown that had been his choice for the female wedding party, its simple lines and elegant cut making her look regal and unreal all at once...

"Storm. This...is really happening, isn't it?"

Her grin was bright like shafts of light through cloud cover. "Yes, I think so. Not getting cold feet, are you?"

"Ororo my dear, that's not even this _side_of funny."

"Hah, I know. Now come on. Everyone's waiting."

xxx xxx xxx

A few days later, he would run his fingers through the fine sand of the Genoshan coast, and remember the ceremony in blurred bits. There was no priest...he had no God, and Erik derided all prophets save Death. Only Jean, with her tearful sincerity and the license for them to sign, drawn up by the Justice that morning in this newly tolerant state of New York. They were assembled in the estate's lushest garden under the same Willow tree that had served as the sight for his mother's nuptuals, or so the ancient albums told, and "they," were a very modest group of close friends and some students, all mutants. Mystique even showed, surly and naked as ever, but...pleasant, ultimately.

He'd stuttered on his vows. Half a century in the teaching profession, weeks pouring over drafts, deciding on the perfect words, and he'd stuttered, overcome and suddenly at a loss.

But Erik was eloquent and, as ever, fearless. He stood tall and looked straight at him, delivering his words to their congregation with all the gravitas of the Brotherhood and a gruffness that was his personally, and no one else's.

_"__We __are __two __sides __of __a __coin ,__my __friend. __A __coin __that __can't __be __touched __with __human __or __mutant __hands. __We __have __known __this __almost __from __the __moment __we __met, __but __we __have __also __known __what __it __is __to __live __for __others. __These __years...so __long... I __couldn't __live __with __you, __so __I __stole __you. __I __couldn't __love __you, __so __I __fought __you. __But __we're __old __now. __And __we're __the __most __powerful __mutants...beings, __on __this __planet. __And __power __has __corrupted __me __into __claiming __you, __Charles. __For __the __rest __of __my __life, __I __will __allow __myself __the __luxury __and __the __honor __of __loving __you, __this __world __be __damned.__" _

"What are you thinking about?"

His husband's hand grasped his shoulder, strong and sure and now adorned with an ornate Oxford disseration ring he hadn't earned traditionally.

Charles breathed in the sea air, and resolved never, no matter what duress, torture, or future crisis that was certain to invade the territory of their peace, to forget this moment.

"You. Only you."


End file.
